Granted
by SummerStarWatcher
Summary: Felicity Merriman is all grown up and attending a ball.  Surprisingly, events play out just as she imagined them to, with one slight twist.  Her mystery man may not be such a mystery after all.
1. Chapter 1

This was it, Felicity Merriman decided. This was the ball where she would meet her future husband; she just knew it. He would be tall and handsome, wealthy and completely devoted to her. She would first see him across the ballroom. He would look up, their gazes would connect, and she would be entranced by his clear, bright eyes. Then later, he would approach her and ask her to dance, and they would sail off into the night on a stream of music and laughter…

Felicity winced as a tug on her hair returned her to the real world.

Rose was in the process of pinning her hair into and elaborate mass of curls and braids. Gentle as she was trying to be, the occasional sharp pull or pinch could not be avoided. Felicity squirmed, and returned to her daydreaming.

He would come back to see her, again and again, and eventually they would begin courting. He would be wealthy and kind, intelligent, completely devoted to her, and tolerant enough not to mind when she cast off the ladylike mantle she donned for such social events and exposed her free-spirited nature. She could practically picture him…

Oddly enough, the picture in her head resembled Ben to a surprising degree. Felicity shook her head, determined to rid her thoughts of Ben. He had already proven his character to be sadly lacking in personal integrity and any sense of commitment. The war had been over for nearly six months, and still he had not returned to finish out his apprenticeship with Mr. Merriman.

"There," came Rose's satisfied murmur, interrupting Felicity's musings and banishing the frown from her face. "Done. Now, we'd best get your dress on. 'Tis almost time to depart."

"Aye. Thank you, Rose." Felicity rose from her seat and walked to the bed where her gown lay. She paused, admiring it once more. Made of pure white cloth, it emphasized her bright hair and clear complexion. Laced up the front with burgundy ribbon that came to a dainty bow on her breast, the dress flowed out from her waist into a swirl of white, broken only by dainty burgundy trim around the edge of the skirt. Frothy lace peeped out from the neckline and the sleeves, lending a sophisticated air to the gown.

Felicity loved looking at it.

"Felicity!" Her father's call sounded from the parlor.

"Coming!" she responded, gesturing hurriedly to Rose.

With the slave's help, she slipped into the dress and delicately hurried down the stairs. Her father stood there, waiting to escort her, and she felt a small pang, remembering how Ben had escorted her to her first ball.

But Ben had been gone for six (seven?) years, and clearly was not coming back. She sighed and took her father's arm.

XXX

Felicity stood by the punch table, sipping from a glass and watching the brightly dressed dancers whirl about as strains of music drifted through the hall. She was flushed from dancing, and had had to beg respite from her admirers. She smiled in satisfaction at her apparent popularity, but couldn't help feeling a small amount of regret that her carefully crafted fantasy had never occurred. It would have been so perfect…

The dance ended, and a young man awkwardly sidled up to Felicity.

"Um, Miss Merriman? Would you, um, care to dance with me?"

She took pity on the fellow. "Aye," she responded, placing her hand in his.

As she was lead onto the dance floor, Felicity caught a glimpse of a man on the other side of the ballroom, dressed all in black and standing alone. The fine cut of his coat showcased broad shoulders and well-muscled arms, and his breeches encased long, strong legs. His brown hair was pulled back with a ribbon, revealing a handsome face with a strong jaw, straight nose, full, sensitive lips, and enigmatic eyes under winged brows. Felicity felt shivers run up her spine as she realized he was studying her every bit as carefully as she was studying him.

Just then, the band began a minuet, and she lost sight of the stranger amidst the sudden flurry of motion. Unnerved, she concentrated carefully on the steps of the dance, trying not to let the man affect her overly much. There had been something so natural, so familiar about him…

After the minuet had finished, Felicity looked around for the stranger, but he had disappeared. Swallowing her disappointment, she turned around and abruptly ran into someone.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I just wasn't watching and…" she trailed off as she moved her gaze to the person's face. It was the very man she had just been searching for.

Looking up right into his clear, brown eyes, she was struck again by how familiar he seemed. 'Twas as if she had known him, long ago.

He gazed down at her. "Oh, it's no trouble." Then he seemed to do a double take, peering more closely at her. "Felicity Merriman?" he asked, sounding disbelieving.

"Yes." Felicity wondered how this man knew her name. Had she met him before? That could be why he seemed so familiar. _No,_ she told herself. _I would remember anyone who looks like that. So how, then, does he know my name?_

The man smiled brightly, derailing her train of thought with a simple gesture. "Would you grace me with your presence for this dance, Miss Merriman?"

Felicity's heart leapt, but she kept a placid smile firmly affixed to her face as she politely acquiesced. They took their places on the floor, and a waltz began. Struggling to keep delighted laughter from dancing out of her mouth, she felt hope and astonishment bubbling up inside of her. _This can't really be happening, not just like I had imagined it only hours ago!_

But it was.

As they glided around the dance floor, Felicity let some of her contentment seep out onto her face in the form of a brilliant smile.

"What?"

She looked up. "Pardon?"

"You're smiling so brightly. Has something made you particularly happy?"

"Oh, just everything. The night, the music, the party. Everything seems so _right_, that's all."

He chuckled darkly, the sound seeming out of place in the bright ballroom. "Ah, the innocence of youth." She caught sight of a sudden bleakness in his eyes before he turned his head away.

Odd.

"And how old are you, sir? Surely not that much older than me."

He looked at her strangely for a moment, as if she should already know his age, then answered, "Twenty-five (six?)."

The waltz came to a crashing end, and he relinquished his hold on her waist.

Feeling sorry to lose his embrace, Felicity fanned herself. "'Tis hot in here. I would like some air."

"Let me accompany you," the man said, taking her arm and leading her to the glass doors that opened into a garden. Outside, they were alone in the semi-darkness, the stars twinkling down from the heavens. Felicity felt tingles run up and down her arm, originating from the point where they touched. She half turned to face him, and found him staring at her.

"You are so beautiful…" He trailed his fingers down her cheek gently, as though afraid she would break if he pressed too hard. He studied her face carefully, gripping her chin and tilting her head up. His own face dipped down towards her, as though he couldn't control to sudden need to be closer to her.

Felicity knew what was coming next.

She knew she should resist. She knew she should turn and walk away, but her traitorous legs refused to move, remaining rooted to the ground. He lowered his face the last little bit, and his lips brushed hers.

The world fell away. It was everything she'd dreamed a kiss could be. It was sweet, and it was gentle, and it made her turn rather warm all over, and then, because she couldn't help it, she sighed.

"So sweet," he murmured, and she felt her arms come around his neck. No rational, fully formed response was manageable, so she merely sighed again. She was lost in a sea of breathless sensation, and no thought could be left. She tangled her hands in his hair and he pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss—

The world came rushing back. Felicity shoved him away from her and stumbled back, suddenly overly conscious of her flushed face and mussed hair.

The man drew back as well, looking a bit dumbfounded, as though he hadn't meant for that to happen. He drew a hand through his hair and looked as if he would say something, but she cut him off.

"You! How could you do that! I'm, I'm a respectable girl, and you can't just go around _kissing_ me! This is all wrong, all wrong—"

He broke in. "I'm sorry, Lissie, I just lost track of myself—"

She spoke over him. "Lost track of yourself! You can't just lose track of yourself and kiss whomever is there. And don't call me Lissie! Lissie is what my family calls me, not strangers, and besides, I haven't told you to call me Lissie. How do you even know that's my nickname? I mean, I just met you, I don't even know your name—!" She paused, noting the surprised look on his face.

"You don't know my name?" he asked slowly.

"No."

He laughed awkwardly, as if expecting her to explain that it was all a joke, just a misunderstanding. He sobered when he saw she was serious, looking a bit disappointed. "So you don't recognize me at all?"

She drew herself up, prepared to defend her ignorance. "And why should I? I just met you."

"But… really?"

Felicity opened her mouth, ready to counter him again, then thought about it. He had seemed familiar, as though she had known him, ages ago. She studied him carefully, trying to puzzle out his identity. His face was similar to another, another she could not place…

But if the cheeks were filled out a bit more, the jaw a bit less sharp, the face a little rounder… If the brows were less harsh, the lips a little bit softer…

And the eyes. His eyes were what alerted her to his identity. And then she felt dumb, and knew she should have realized it long before now. Only one person had such kind, deep eyes as this man did. And once she knew who he was, it was ever so much easier to reconcile his features with the boy she once knew.

She looked tentatively back into those eyes, and ventured a question, just to be sure. "Ben?"

He smiled down at her, clearly pleased that she did, in fact remember him.

She smiled back.

And slapped him.

A/N: So here it is, my very first American Girl fanfic! I hope you liked it :)

I'm not sure if I should continue this story, or perhaps tell Ben's point of view for this chapter. Let me know what you think.

As always, reviews are much appreciated. Thanks!

~Star


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys! So I know it's been absolutely forever since I've updated, and I want to apologize. All of a sudden school got crazy, and I was having to work extra, and excuses, excuses, excuses. The point is, stuff has mostly calmed down now, so I should be able to post/update more often.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter of this story. It's Ben's POV of the same events as the first chapter. And as I was writing it, I realized that there is potential for this to turn into a longer story. So, what do you guys think? Start something new, or continue this one? I don't know how much longer it would get, but at least another chapter or two, to explain the things hinted at here and resolve the ending. Your choice.**

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**

Benjamin Davidson felt out of place. This was unusual for him. Having been in the patriot army for six years, he had been trained to deal well with anything and everything he encountered, up to and including fancy social events like the one he was currently attending. So the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach was worth notice.

People throughout the hall were dancing, smiling, laughing. Ben felt as if the entire party was surreal, like a half remembered dream of a time when things were simpler, happier. He could almost see his younger self escorting a very excited Felicity to her first ball.

He smiled at the memory, but quickly sobered.

Felicity.

Not a day went by he didn't think of her, didn't wonder how she was faring. Hoping that she had remained unaffected by the war, untouched by horrors like he had seen…

And the memory of her face was replaced by darkness, a string of memories of war swelling up to eclipse the brightly lit ballroom and transporting him back to dark nights of battle. Firing over and over again into the enemy and watching his friends get ripped to shreds around him, knowing that he was causing similar chaos across the line. Feeling blood trickle down his arm after being shot in the shoulder, hearing the screams of those hurt far worse. Smelling blood and gunpowder as he automatically shot and reloaded his rifle, firing round after round into enemies that looked suspiciously similar to friends—

Ben shook himself, struggling to resurface from the nightmare. Feeling the remainder of a cill creeping up his neck from black nights remembered, he forced himself to focus on the present. He gazed around at the smiling faces of the dancers, focus blurring as they followed predestined routes, weaving amongst each other. Suddenly, a flash of motion on the other side of the room caught his eye. A young lady stood there, talking to a nervous looking boy. Unsure why she had captured his interest, he studied her.

She was beautiful, he noted. Not in an exotic manner, not in a way that immediately jumped out at him. But as he continued to look at her, her beauty was unmistakable. A smattering of freckles across her delicate nose enhanced the cream color of her skin,. A gorgeous navy blue and white gown emphasized her slender figure, and her fiery hair was tamed and pulled up under a demure white cap.

Watching her actions., her mannerisms, as she was led out to the dance floor, Ben was struck by a seeming familiarity. And yet, he couldn't quite place her…

A sudden wave of anger caught him by surprise. Ben was slightly shocked to find he intensely disliked the sight of some other man with this girl in his arms. Especially a man like this, young, soft, and weak. This boy had obviously never had to fight, had obviously never been forced to care for himself or anyone else, ever. So how could he possibly manage to protect this girl from all the dangers? How could he possibly manage to care for her the way she so clearly deserved?

Ben managed to quell the flame of fury sparking inside of him and turned away from the dance floor, unable to continue watching that fool dancing with who he was beginning to think of as his girl. Frustrated, he spent the remainder of the minuet calmly regarding the gaudy crowd, ignoring the gray mist of negativity hanging over his head.

Shaking his head in dark humor at his own foolishness, Ben strode across the floor, carefully making his way through the clusters of chatting people, not looking at anyone in particular. Which was why he nearly jumped out of his skin when a girl in front of him suddenly whirled around and crashed right into him.

It was his girl.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she said, sounding genuinely shocked and dismayed at her clumsiness. "I just wasn't watching, and…" she trailed off, staring up at him.

He took her apology as an opportunity to gaze into her face, feeling a deep appreciation for her wide green eyes and the fairy kisses sprinkled generously across the thin bridge of her nose. "Oh, it's no trouble," he replied automatically. His gaze continued to trace her face, and he once again noted her familiarity. It was as if he had once known her, ages ago…

No. No, it couldn't be. The girl he had been missing, had been thinking about practically nonstop for the past six years, wishing, hoping against hope that she would still be here, still be alive, well, free…

All of a sudden everything made sense, all of this girl's familiarities. But, just to make sure, he voiced his revelation. "Felicity Merriman?"

Surprise corssed her face, with a hint of confusion, as she answered with a hesitant "Yes."

Ben smiled, delighted to find her just as he'd hoped: alive, well, and unattached.

He struggled for the appropriate words to say, to keep her in his company. He was not about to let her go, not when he'd just found her again. "Would you grace me with your presence for this dance, Miss Merriman?"

For a moment she looked startled, then, as she accepted and allowed him to escort her onto the ballroom floor, a small secret smile slipped onto her face. He watched it grow as he struggled to keep part of his mind on the waltz, wondering what was going on in her brain. When her grin reached the point where he was absolutely dazzled by its brilliance, he could contain his curiosity no more. "What?"

She looked up at him, a hint of confusion and uncertainty in her eyes. "Pardon?"

Ben decided the truth was his best option. "You were smiling so brightly. Has something made you particularly happy?

The secret smile returned with her answer. "Oh, just everything. The night, the music, the party… Everything seems so _right_, that's all."

Ben gave a sour laugh, trying to remember the days when life had seemed like that to him, too. Before the war had stripped away that feeling, replacing it with bleakness and horror and the stench of death, prisoner to the enemy, closed in by rank, foul walls, the air stained with pity, tears, grief, and pain… "Ah, the innocence of youth," he managed to get out before turning his head away, unwilling to sully the stunning vision in front of him with the memories consuming his mind.

"And how old are you, sir?" Felicity's voice cut through the darkness, bringing much needed relief. And then her words registered.

How odd.

He'd been so sure she'd remember everything about him, least of all his age. "Twenty-five."

And with that, the waltz ended, every dancer coming to a swirling halt. Ben gave an inner sigh, unwilling to relinquish his hold on her quite yet, then let her slip out of his arms, already missing her warmth against him.

She fanned herself, then commented, "'Tis hot in here. I would like some air."

Finding himself grateful for the excuse to spend more time in her company, he immediately acted, jumping on the opportunity. "Let me escort you," he said, offering his arm to her.

To his pleasure, she readily accepted it, and he led her into the gardens.

His focus was entirely on her, on the graceful way she moved, the way the dim light from the party illuminated her delicate features, highlighting her loveliness.

He could not contain himself, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek, half afraid she would be stained by the blood he still expected o find on his hands. "You are so beautiful…" he murmured, awed into speech. He was drawn in by her gaze, feeling his head dipping lower and lower towards hers. He knew he should stop, but he also knew he couldn't. Not now, not when she was so close, so soft, so _alive_. His lips touched hers, and she sighed and melted into him.

He couldn't help it. "So sweet," he whispered, pulling her closer and giving in to the temptation to deepen the kiss. Her response electrified him. She gave a soft moan and wound her arms around his neck, becoming positively wild under his kiss. As she tangled her hands in his hair, he pulled her even closer, relishing the chance to finally kiss her the way he'd dreamed all these years away from Williamsburg—

Which is when she shoved him away. Ben blinked, trying to return to the moment, and found an mussed and angry Felicity glaring up at him. Reason returned and he felt a moment of sickness, slowly realizing he had just kissed the daughter of his employer senseless. Unsure of what to do, exactly, he passed a hand through his hair and was about to speak when she opened her mouth.

"You! How could you do that! I'm, I'm a respectable girl, and you can't just go around _kissing_ me! I can't believe I let you do that. I can't believe this is happening. This is not how it's supposed to go, not at all how things are supposed to happen. This is wrong, all wrong, all wrong—"

Ben interrupted her rant, unable to continue listening. This reaction was exactly what he'd feared would happen, what he least wanted. He hurried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Lissie, I just lost track of myself, and then I just got so, so overwhelmed—"

She raised her voice. "Lost track of yourself! You can't just lose track of yourself and kiss whomever is there. And don't call me Lissie! Lissie is what my family calls me, what my friends call me, not strangers not just anyone, and besides, I haven't told you to call me Lissie. How do you even know that's my nickname? I mean, I just met you, I don't even know your name—!"

Ben was shocked. Did she not know who he was? Had she done all of this, trusted him thus far, without even knowing his name? It was just the kind of thing that feisty Felicity would do, but he didn't really believe it of her. Just to be sure, he asked, "You don't know my name?"

"No," came the answer, quick and certain.

He chuckled awkwardly, half expecting her to break into laughter and explain how it was just a joke, of course she knew who he was. When no such explanation was forthcoming, he sobered, the slightly sour taste of disappointment in his mouth. "So you don't recognize me at all?"

She straightened her spine and pulled her shoulders back, as if preparing for an argument. "And why should I? I just met you."

Oh, this was a crushing blow. She didn't recognize him, didn't even know his name. While he had been kissing his beloved Felicity, she had been kissing a complete stranger. It certainly explained her reaction, though. "But… really?" Ben couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Felicity started to respond, looked at him, and seemingly thought better of it. She spent the better part of a minute simply studying his face, trying to figure out who he was. Carefully looking at all of his features, he could practically see the gears working in her brain, trying to piece out who he was. Altering his visage to match one from years ago…

She finally looked up into his eyes, and he knew she knew.

"Ben?" The name was quiet, a question rather than a statement.

It filled him with relief that he hadn't really been forgotten. He didn't think he'd changed that much in the intervening years, but apparently he had. "Lissie. I missed you."

A grin broke out on her face. He smiled wider in response, feeling contentment creep through his skin to settle in a puddle in his heart.

That's when her hand cracked across his face, leaving a slash of pain, a red handprint, and a large amount of shock in its wake.

He gaped at her, speechless.

**A/N: So there we have it! The long-awaited second chapter! I'd love it if you guys would tell me what you think of it in reviews! Much love,**

**~Star**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ** Well, here it is. The next chapter of a supposedly-already-finished story. But you all were so insistent, and I can't bear to disappoint you, so here is a continuation of the story.

This takes places not moments after the events of the previous chapters.

Oh, and a little disclaimer: I am not particularly knowledgeable about events during and after the American Revolutionary War, and did not actually do any research for this (I know, I know, I am a bad writer), so some of this may not actually be historically accurate. My apologies for any misinformation and/or mistakes.

That said, I still hope you enjoy!

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Ben gaped at her in shock, opening his mouth to form some kind of response, but Felicity cut him off.

"No! I don't want to hear it, Ben! I almost don't want to believe it really is you, because the Ben I know would never behave like this! How could you!"

"Look, Lissie, I apologize for my behavior, okay? I'm sorry I didn't exercise more restraint, didn't follow the rules of society, I just carried away, and I just had to kiss you…."

"_That's_ what you think this is about?" her voice rose in incredulity. "You think I actually care so much about the impropriety of you kissing me that I would _slap_ you?"

He looked confused. "You mean, you don't?"

"I could care less about that kiss!" she stated baldly, failing to see him wince slightly.

"Alright, so what else could I have possibly done to drive you to hitting me this soon after meeting me again?"

"That's exactly the point! I'm only seeing you _now_!"

He still looked confused, and she sighed exasperatedly. "Ben, the war's been over for a year now. You were supposed to come back right away, come back and complete your apprenticeship. But you were gone for a whole extra year, no letters or anything, and I was so worried, _so worried_ that something might have happened to you.

"And after all that worry, I see you here, happily attending a ball mere miles away from Williamsburg instead of returning home and _telling us all you weren't killed!_ You could've at least had the decency to come see us before coming to this _party_!"

His face shuttered closed, becoming harsher than she'd ever seen it. "So that's what you think, is it? That I've been running around the country for the past year, attending parties and neglecting my responsibilities? Well I won't disabuse you of your notions, if you want to believe them so badly."

She opened her mouth, intending to protest, but he cut her off. "Tell your father I'll see him in the morning. Good night, miss." He turned and strode purposefully away.

Felicity ran after him. "Wait, Ben! Wait!"

He ignored her, entering the ballroom again and heading for the front entrance.

"Ben..." her voice trailed off as he got too far away to hear her.

He was here. Ben was really, really here, right in front of her, hale and healthy as he had been when he left. Relief warred with anger inside her.

How could he have done this to them? To her? How could he have forgotten so quickly his commitments to the family? And why on Earth was _he_ now so upset at _her_? She hadn't been the one to neglect her duties and leave them all hanging, waiting for word that he'd survived alive.

But he was here, and alive, and not hurt…she could've sobbed in relief.

And then he'd left. How dare he just run away from her?

Well, she wouldn't let him do it. She ran for the door, skirts clutched in her hands, dodging as well as she could amongst the crowds of people. By the time she'd made it to the front door, he was just about to swing up onto his horse and ride off, leaving her again.

She couldn't bear it. "Wait, Ben!"

He just looked at her, then turned back to his horse, sliding his foot into the stirrup.

She rushed forward and grabbed his arm. "Benjamin Davidson, don't you dare get on that horse!" she cried, tugging at him.

He turned, his face impossibly controlled as he shook her off. "Tell your family I will be by to call on them tomorrow," he said, voice horribly calm.

She nearly burst into tears. "Ben, please…"

His face twisted at the evidence of her emotions in her voice, and he stopped trying to mount the horse, placing both feet back on the ground and turning to face her. "What is it, Miss Merriman?" He kept his expression blank.

"Ben…" her voice broke. "Ben, I'm so glad to see you." And she threw her arms around him, partly to keep him there with her and partly to reassure herself that yes, he was in fact there, healthy, unhurt, with her.

It took a moment for him to respond, and then his arms slid around her waist and he lifted her up of the ground, holding her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe.

It was wonderful.

"I missed you," he whispered in her ear, his rough voice sending tingles down her spine. "Every hour of every day, I thought of you, and prayed you were safe."

"_You_ prayed that _I_ was safe?" she laughed, drawing back. "You were the one off fighting a war! I was so worried about you!" She sniffed, and realized she was crying. "I was so afraid that you'd be hurt, that you'd be killed, that I'd never get to see you again…"

He smiled, handing her his handkerchief. "Ah, Lissie. I promised I would come back, and so I have."

"But where have you _been_?"she asked, wiping away her tears. "We've been so worried, what with the war over and done for a year yet no sign of you."

His smile soured. "You think I've been off enjoying myself, neglecting my duties to your family." He made as though to push her away.

"No!" she cried, clinging to him. "No, not really, I don't. I didn't mean what I said earlier, I just was so happy to see you that I wasn't really thinking."

He looked at her for a long moment, as though he were trying to peer into her soul. "Alright," he said at last, "do you want to know where I've been?"

She nodded.

"I'm warning you, it's not a pretty story. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

She nodded again.

He sighed, and looked down, seeming to look right through her. His eyes became haunted, and she could feel him tense.

"About six months before the end of the war, my battalion was traveling to help the people of Boston. Along the way, we were ambushed." He paused for a long moment before shaking himself and returning his mind to the present. "You don't need to hear all the details," he told her, giving her a small half-smile. "Suffice to say that a few of us were taken captive."

Oh. Oh…

He continued. "The British Army had take quite a few prisoners, from all across the countryside, and now had more than they had facilities to keep. So they packed us up onto ships and sent us across the ocean, back to Britain. Once we had made it there, it was mere weeks before peace was negotiated.

"But peace was of no help to those of us trapped over there. Yes, we had been released from prison, but were provided no means of transport back to America. Jobless, penniless, we were left on the streets to fend for ourselves as best we could.

"And so we did. I found work at the docks, loading and unloading ships as they came in to port, and eventually I had saved up enough to buy myself passage on a merchant vessel, back to New York.

"I was lucky, really." His voice took a sober turn. "Some of the men were sick, or wounded…we tried to help them, but…"

Watching his face, Felicity could see that he'd lost himself in his memories. Desperate to pull him back out of that, she hugged him close. "But you made it home."

"Yes. I made it home." He stroked her hair. "In fact, I only made it in to New York two weeks ago. I stopped by my family's home, then came straight here to see you and your parents. I only stopped at this party as a favor to a friend of mine, who wanted me to join him here tonight. I was going to come by tomorrow and explain everything."

"Where are you staying tonight?"

"Ahh…" he scratched his head, looking a bit awkward. "Well, I don't exactly have a plan…I've mostly been sleeping in barns and waystations, but there isn't one around here, so…"

"Come home with me," she said impulsively.

He raised his brows. "Wouldn't it be best for me to return tomorrow, in full daylight, where I can meet your whole family again and explain myself fully?"

"No, come with me tonight. You can stay at our house for the night, and be there to explain everything to Papa in the morning. You don't have another plan, so why not just come with me?"

"Well, alright, I suppose." He laughed. "This is certainly not how I'd pictured things happening."

"Oh, really?" she asked, suddenly in a teasing mood. "And what had you imagined happening?"

"Well, I'd come back to Williamsburg and stop by your store, during the day, of course, and apologize to your father for being so delayed in returning. I'd tell him what I told you this evening, and then be invited back to your house for dinner. I'd take up my place as your father's apprentice again, living in your house, and then eventually I'd be made a partner in the store and I'd—" he stopped short, suddenly, looking as though he'd revealed too much.

"Yes?" she prompted. "And then you'd…?"

"Never mind," he said with a twisted smile. "You'll find out eventually. For now, though, let's get you your coat and be on our way home."

"Home." She smiled happily, content to let the mystery pass for the moment. "I'm so glad you're home, Ben."

He grinned at her, and it was as though he'd never been gone. "Me, too."

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**A/N: **Well, there you have it. There will be at least one more chapter, Ben's point of view, coming up (at some point) (soon, I hope). And then I might do another set of chapters (both Felicity and Ben's point of view) after that, but we'll have to see.

So, what did you think? Reviews are much appreciated!

~Star


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